March Poem 3

I do have deadly fumes in the air. The skills learned they can’t smell touch. If nothing, just appear as a special. The world of the senses of taste tripping over small items.

But to describe to them a person of taste regardless of degree. That the employers are bumping into walls as an expert. The smell of an English degree as a holder of poisoned food. And his or you are not at the fact.

Yadda, yadda, yadda… blah, blah, blah for you dangerous chemicals. That can make you marketable for disadvantage.

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Published by The.Richard.Braxton

Richard Braxton is a writer struggling with his inner poet. He has fought the poetic urge most of his life, but lately, he has fallen prey to this lifestyle. He creates poetry on a daily basis, and the world is the worse for it.
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